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Unfinished Portrait

In the midst of trials, sometimes up is down
And the lines are blurred; Truth is trifled with,
The boundaries of falsehood are extended,
And to distinguish between left and right
Is to choose between a rock and a hard place.

Lord, I love what You’ve done with me;
I know I’m not easy to work on,
But You are such an excellent Craftsman.
Up to this moment there have been approximately
A billion and one ways things could have gone sideways
– Yeah, I actually calculated it;-
But You’ve got the steady hands of a master surgeon,
As You perfectly repair the broken and smoothly replace the deformed;
Gently straightening the crooked and firmly sustaining the upright.
It is astounding, to be able to sometimes step back and take a look
Over Your shoulder, at this stunning portrait You call my life;
At the fluid strokes and the delicate touches; the depth You add
And the insane range of colours – such vibrancy and brilliance;
How you brighten the darker shades and smoothen the rougher edges;
All on a single seemingly finite piece of canvas – oh, such mastery.

If there’s one thing I’ve learnt, it is that:
In the midst of storms, peace is not sought outside,
It is found within, asleep in the lower decks of the heart,
In the bosom of the Prince of Peace. Call out to Him,
And He’ll respond with ‘Peace be still’.